In A Moment
by AmethystWren
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots to do with Finnick and Annie. Some will be fluffy, some angsty, some an odd little mixture. This will be a work in progress, constantly being added to, however it is technically complete at any given moment. Enjoy!
1. Saving Up Kisses

**Okay, so since I seem to write rather a lot of Odesta one-shots and drabbles (even more now, courtesy of tumblr), I figured it might be an idea to put them all together. Hence this.**

**I'm going to mark this as complete, because as a collection of short stories you should be able to read it and it make sense etc. etc. Technically, it is complete at any given moment (no idea how much sense I'm making here...) However, I will be updating it often with new drabbles/one-shots.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, or odesta, for I am not Suzanne Collins. Sorry.**

* * *

_Prompt: Finnick and Annie's final conversation before he leaves for the quarter quell._

* * *

He knew where he'd find her.

Pulling on a shirt as he walked out the door, he headed down to the little patch of beach that had been their haunt since they were children. She'd be tying knots in the worn piece of rope she always kept tied around her wrist. That's what Annie always did when she needed to keep herself grounded.

Only that evening, she wasn't.

Finding her lilac dress lying in a heap halfway down the beach, Finnick immediately expected the worst.

"Finnick!"

Looking up, out to sea, it took him a moment to catch her. Annie was a strong swimmer, and already she was quite far from the shore.

He kicked off his shoes and tugged his shirt over his head (really, he wondered, was there even much point in putting it on?) before wading out.

She met him halfway, wrapping her dripping wet arms around his shoulders, burying her face in the crook of his neck, making sure that every inch of him that had remained dry was now just as wet as she was.

"It's going to be us." She said, finally releasing Finnick from her hold.

He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, tried to articulate some sort of comforting response. But there was none, and they both knew it. She was right. President Snow loved a good romance; he liked to rip it apart, turn lover against lover.

Finnick could never kill Annie if it came down to it. He liked to think that she'd never kill him, either, but doubt clouded his mind. It'll do that; make even the surest fact murky and unclear. The sensible part of him trusted her more than anyone, but the survivor in him remained suspicious and alert at all times.

"Mags will volunteer for you." Finnick said as the thought came to mind. "She'd never let you go back, not after what they did to you."

But Annie was shaking her head frantically. "No, no. Not Mags. I won't let her."

"You won't have much choice." Finnick pointed out grimly. "If she volunteers, you can't do anything about it."

"But what about you?" She reached up a hand, cold and damp against his cheek. "Who will volunteer for you?"

Finnick grinned his signature grin, equal amounts cocky and charming- the grin that had women and men in the Capitol alike falling over each-other to reach him, to have him, to own him.

"Finnick," Annie drew out, her tone reminiscent of the one his mother always used to use on him. Back when she was alive, of course. "That's not a proper answer."

"I'll be fine." He said, taking her hand off of his cheek, cradling it in both of his own.

"Promise?" She inquired.

"Promise," He agreed. "Look, I'll even pinky swear!"

Dropping her hand, he held out his little finger. Laughing, she hooked her own around it, giving it one firm shake before they let go.

"That settles it." Annie told him, and he wasn't sure whether or not she was joking. "You have to come back now."

"Another Hunger Games." He said. He wasn't sure whether or not he was teasing, either. It was so hard to tell sometimes. "How on earth will I manage?"

"You'll find a way." Annie smiled. Her lips began to quiver slightly. "Please find a way, Finn."

He caught her as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him yet again. This hug was much more forceful than the last, though. Her fingernails dug into his bare back, her now tear-streaked face crushed against his shoulder.

Finnick rubbed circles into her skin and whispered stories and secrets into her hair, just until she was collected enough to head back to shore.

He helped her put her dress back on, walked her to her door. All in silence. They didn't need to talk. There wasn't much more left to be said.

"Whatever happens tomorrow," Annie said, pausing with her hand hovering just above the doorknob. "I'll be able to come see you one last time. Even if Mags volunteers, they'll let friends and family come and say goodbye, won't they?"

"They have for the last seventy-four years." Finnick said with a shrug, hopping up onto her doorstep beside her. "I don't see why they'd change that now."

Standing on tiptoe, Annie pressed a quick kiss to his lips before opening the door to her house.

"Get some sleep." She instructed with a giggle as Finnick tried to move in, to kiss her again.

"You're so cruel, Annie Cresta." He pouted like a child, folding his arms and stomping his foot for emphasis.

"I'll save up all my kisses for tomorrow." She insisted, already stepping into her house and starting to close the door. "That way the memory will be newer; it'll last longer."

"I could never forget a single moment with you." Finnick assured her loudly.

Though Annie rolled her eyes as she finished shutting her door, he could hear her giggle on the other side.

Whistling a happy little tune, he headed back to his house. She was right; he needed some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a big day, of that he was certain.

* * *

Finnick and Mags were escorted straight from the reaping to the station the next day.

No goodbyes.

No saved up kisses.

No Annie.

He never forgave President Snow for that.


	2. Pancakes

**Okay, so I know this one's very fast-paced. That was intentional. It was to help illustrate Annie's rising panicky-ness.**

* * *

_Prompt: Finnick tries to surprise Annie by making breakfast, but ends up almost burning their house down._

* * *

Annie wakes up to the smell of burning.

"Finnick," She squeaks, bolting upright in bed.

The space beside her is empty. Reaching out to touch his pillow, she finds it cold, and realises he must've woken up a while ago.

He's probably gone for a walk, she thinks. Sometimes, when he can't sleep, he does that.

Oh god, she must've left the oven on.

She must've left the oven on all night, and she must've forgotten to take that half-eaten dish of macaroni cheese out of it, and it must've caught fire.

Once she's out of bed, Annie closes her eyes and takes a moment to get her racing breath back to a somewhat reasonable pace.

"It's probably nothing." She tries to reassure herself. "It'll be fine."

Calmer than she was before, Annie grabs the glass of water she always keeps by her bedside in case of a late night coughing fit before heading cautiously downstairs.

"Good morning, sunshine." Finnick says as she comes to a standstill at the kitchen doorway.

Her fingers clasp the glass of water so tightly that she's starting to feel pins and needles, but she doesn't loosen her hold. Her eyes scan the scene in front of her.

Finnick sits at the kitchen table, two plates of... well, some kind of charred mess, placed neatly in front of him.

"I made pancakes." He announces proudly.

Realising that that's what the smell must've been, that truly she had been over-reacting, Annie can't help but laugh.

"What's so funny?" Finnick asks defensively.

"Nothing." Annie promises, putting her glass of water down and going to the cupboard. "Breakfast looks great. Thank you, Finn."

"You're welcome." He grins smugly and settles back in his chair.

Annie slathers her 'pancakes' in raspberry syrup, and so is more or less able to eat them without choking.

"This is lovely, Finn." She lies as she finishes her final mouthful.

Apparently, her boyfriend takes her word as the truth.

"You think so?" He's positively glowing with pride. "I'll make you some more tomorrow, if you like."

"No!" Annie says hastily. Then, feeling guilty, she quickly adds, "You must've woken up so early today, just so that you could do all this for me. You deserve a lie in."

"I suppose you're right." Finnick agrees reluctantly. "Maybe the day after, eh?"

"Maybe." Annie can't bring herself to say 'no' outright and shatter his illusion.

She'll just have to make sure she gets up first every morning for the foreseeable future.


	3. Skinny Dipping

_Prompt: Finnick and Annie get drunk and go skinny dipping in the ocean :)_

* * *

Finnick arrived at Annie's door one day with a bottle of expensive wine.

"Look what I've got." He said, holding it in her face for all of two seconds.

"Fancy," Annie commented, stepping aside so that he could enter.

Finnick took his bottle of wine straight into the kitchen. With a quiet sigh, Annie shut the door and followed him.

"So," Annie said, taking the bottle from him and studying it. "Who's it from?"

The label read "Le Rouge", which Annie could make no sense of. The ingredients list was equally foreign to her.

"Some guy I spent the weekend with last time I was in the Capitol." Finnick explained dismissively.

"Guy?" Annie raised an eyebrow.

Finnick shrugged. "Don't ask."

Annie returned to studying the bottle.

"I figured it would be irresponsible if I drank the whole thing by myself." Finnick explained. "But if we share it..." He trailed off, grinning mischievously.

Annie handed the bottle back to him. "I'll get us some glasses."

* * *

Between them, they finished the bottle.

"You have really nice eyes." Finnick told Annie matter-of-factly.

She giggled until she hiccupped, which made her jump.

"They're like... the sea." He continued on, seemingly oblivious. "Like... murky blue-green. Really pretty."

"Your eyes are prettier." Annie insisted.

"They are not." Finnick frowned.

"Are too." Annie insisted.

Finnick stood up.

Annie screamed and ran around to the other side of the table.

He chased her around the kitchen for a good five minutes, until they were both out of breath. Only then did Annie allow Finnick to catch up with her.

"Ha!" Finnick wheezed triumphantly. "Caught you!"

"Oh dear," Annie said dramatically, raising a hand to her forehead and letting her knees buckle slightly. "Whatever will I do?"

"I can think of a few things." Finnick said.

Standing on tiptoes, Annie went to kiss him, but Finnick released her from his arms and stepped back, laughing.

"Trust me?" He asked, holding out a hand.

Annie giggled, reaching out and intertwining his fingers with her own.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

* * *

Sometimes, Mags liked to check in on her children, just to make sure they hadn't done anything stupid or gotten themselves into trouble.

When Finnick didn't answer his door, she assumed he must be at Annie's. The two of them often switched houses, spending the night with each-other more often than not.

When Annie didn't answer her door either, Mags came to the conclusion that they must have gone out together.

She had two options: the market place, or the beach. Now, Mags knew for a fact that Annie did her shopping on Tuesdays, and today was a Friday.

Which left the beach.

With most of the District at work or school on a Friday afternoon, the beach was fairly deserted. The fishing boats were already well out to sea, and the net-makers sat along the pier. The beach itself was fairly vacant.

Mags found their clothes before she found them.

Bending down to pick up one of the garments, she hurriedly tossed it aside when she realised it was a pair of lacy white knickers.

Wherever her children had gotten to, they were both naked, it would seem.

"Mags!"

She turned to face the sea, shielding her eyes from the fierce glare of the afternoon sun with one hand.

"Mags, come join us!" Finnick shouted. He was a fair distance out to sea. Annie, just a bobbing head beside him, reached a hand up out of the water to wave.

"I think I'll pass!" Mags yelled back.

"Spoilsport!" Finnick retorted.

Annie blew a raspberry at her, squealing when Finnick grabbed her wrist and yanked her underwater.

Shaking her head, Mags turned and headed for home.


	4. The Gardener

**Woah, people seem to really like these! Every time I got an email saying someone had favourited this little collection or a had a lovely review from one of your sweet, lovely readers, I swear my heart leapt. Thank you guys for your wonderful support!**

**This is my first attempt at a modern AU. I thought the idea was sweet, and it fit Odesta so well :) Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Annie owed Mags a lot.

When she ran out of flour mid-recipe, she always knew she could pop next-door and request to 'borrow' some. She'd add an extra bag to her shopping the next week, and try to persuade Mags to take it. The old lady would always refuse, insisting that she was 'just being neighbourly'.

Or there was that time when Annie had a particularly bad panic attack and found herself fired from her job at the tea shop in town by a particularly misunderstanding boss. She'd been a wreck when she arrived home, eyes red and throat sore. Mags saw her stumbling past, and showed up a few hours after Annie's return, a packet of chocolate biscuits under her arm and a selection of assorted Disney DVDs at hand.

Yes, Annie owed Mags a lot. So when Mags told her that she was going on holiday for a week and needed someone to look after her cats, Annie agreed to help her out.

Mags had two cats named Elmer and Ernest. Elmer was a gorgeous tortoiseshell. He was friendly, and often chased after people in the hope of a nice tickle behind the ears. Annie was rather fond of him. Ernest was a solid black cat with white paws. He detested anybody who was not Mags. Inwardly, Annie wondered how she was going to handle him for a whole week.

Annie stood on her doorstep on the day of her neighbour's departure, waving as Mags climbed into a taxi with a pile of suitcases twice her size.

That evening, she used the spare key Mags had given her in case of emergencies to let herself into the old lady's house. Heading through to the kitchen, she flicked the light on.

She leapt backwards a few feet, smashing the backs of her bare heels against the wall and wincing at the sharp burst of pain it caused.

Ernest sat on the kitchen counter, his eyes directly level with hers.

"Hello, Ernest." Annie said calmly, mustering up her courage and walking across the kitchen to the cupboard in which Mags kept her pet food. "Where's your brother, huh?"

She emptied the amount of cat food indicated onto the packet into the bowl in the corner of the kitchen.

Annie almost tripped over Elmer as she left. Bending down, she tickled him under the chin before stepping over him and leaving.

* * *

Morning and evening, Mags had said. Feed the cats once in the morning, once in the evening.

Annie hurriedly got dressed after her breakfast and headed next-door to feed the cats. They were both out at that point, but by evening they were back.

Ernest showed his appreciation for Annie's serving him his dinner by dragging his claws down her calf.

Scampering home, she contorted herself at several painfully unnatural angles as she attempted to clear the cuts up with an antiseptic wipe.

* * *

Annie knew that Mags' cats sometimes argued; they'd woken her up many a night with their hissing.

Still, she was horrified when she showed up on the fourth morning of Mags' week away to find Ernest nursing an injured paw.

Filling the food bowl up so that at least Elmer could have breakfast, Annie tried to approach the more wary of the two cats.

Ernest hissed at her and limped away at a speed far greater than she would have expected of something that seemed so hurt.

He disappeared out of the cat flap.

Using her key, Annie unlocked the back door and ran out into the garden after him.

"Ernest!" She shouted after him. "I only want to help! Come back!"

She felt her voice go dry when she realised she was not the only person in Mags' back garden.

Mags had warned Annie that her gardener came every Wednesday. Annie had never really been able to see him before over the tall hedge Mags insisted on growing between their gardens 'for the hedgehogs'. She'd only seen him from a distance, climbing into a little green van with the words "Odair Gardening Services" written in block capitals over the rear.

She had no idea that his eyes would be so beautiful up close.

"Hold on," He said, tossing his shears to the floor by his feet and darting after Ernest.

He caught him with ease, scooping the injured cat up and carrying him back down the garden. Annie held her arms out to receive the cat, cradling him against her chest.

"It's okay, Ernest." She murmured into the bundle of disgruntled, injured fur before turning to look up at their saviour. "Thank you."

"It's nothing." The gardener assured her, grinning.

Annie hadn't ever known the butterflies in her stomach to be this intense unless she was about to launch into a terrible panic attack. But somehow, today, she felt calm and content.

It was strange.

"Annie Cresta, yeah?" The gardener asked.

Annie nodded, confused as to why he'd know her name when she knew nothing of him save her kept her neighbour's garden in check and he had eyes the colour of the grass he mowed.

"Mags told me you'd be looking after her kids while she was away." He explained, referring of course to Elmer and Ernest. "I'm Finnick by the way."

He extended a hand for her to shake but, realising that her arms were full, quickly retracted it and laughed nervously.

"Pleased to meet you, Finnick," She said. It was certainly an interesting name, and she wanted to ask if he knew where his parents had drawn their inspiration from, but she thought that would seem weird- maybe even rude- and so kept her mouth shut.

"The pleasure is all mine." He grinned again, and she felt her knees go weak. "Now, I'll leave you to tend to our friend here." He ran a finger down Ernest's nose, much to the cat's disdain.

Annie drove Ernest to the vets.

His paw wasn't badly injured, thank god, but she was told she'd have to keep him indoors for at least the rest of the week.

Dropping him back off at his own house, she made sure to lock the cat flap shut before leaving. She hoped Elmer would go easy on him that night.

As she headed down the path to her own house, she was surprised to find a single pink rose lying on her doorstep, freshly cut.

It was one of Mags', she was sure. Mags loved roses; her back garden was filled with bushes bearing the flowers in various different hues.

Which meant Finnick must've left it for her.

She felt her cheeks heat up as she carried the flower inside. She didn't have a vase, so she filled a plastic beaker with water for the rose and set it on the window sill of her bedroom.

* * *

Elmer and Ernest did not fight again for the rest of the week, thank goodness. Whenever she entered the house, Ernest took to leaving the room as quickly as he was able. She suspected he thought she was going to drive him to the vet again.

She tried to feel sad, but the cuts on her calf reminded her how much he liked her company, and so Annie instead filled their food bowl and tickled Elmer behind the ears every morning and evening before leaving.

She found a small, childish part of her wishing Finnick did not only work on Mags' garden on Wednesdays. So that she could question him on the rose, she reasoned, and not just because she wanted to make him laugh that sweet little nervous laugh of his. Not because she missed the butterflies.

* * *

Mags returned home that Sunday, exactly a week after she left. She showed up at Annie's house that evening with a box of home-made cookies, to say 'thank you'.

Annie invited her in, and explained Ernest's paw and his trip to the vet over a cup of tea.

She somehow managed to completely avoid bringing up her encounter with Finnick.

"And what did you think of the gardener?" Mags asked once she had finished. "Pretty scrummy, don't you think?"

Annie felt the blush rising in her cheeks.

"Mags!" She spluttered. "He's old enough to be your son!"

"He can't be much older than you though." Mags insisted, smirking and taking a sip of her tea. "So? What did you think?"

"He seemed quite nice." Annie admitted, thinking of the rose upstairs in her bedroom, of the way he'd gone sprinting down the garden to catch Ernest for her.

"_Quite nice_," Mags repeated flatly. "Is that all you have to say about him, Annie Cresta? He was _quite nice_?"

"We didn't really talk." Annie lied, looking down at her tea. "He smiled at me through the kitchen window, but that's all."

Mags smiled as though she knew that wasn't by any stretch the truth, but thankfully she let the subject drop.

* * *

She was trying her hand at painting (so far, it looked rather like a big blue blob, but if need be she'd just give it eyes and call it a friendly monster) when their came a knock at her door the following Wednesday.

Barely daring to hope, she laid her paintbrush down and went to open the door.

Finnick stood on her doorstep, hands in his pockets.

"Mags sent me." He said quickly.

Annie leant against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow, prompting him to go on.

"She said you lost your job a few weeks ago and you need some cheering up." He continued. "And I think I'd quite like to make you happy. Oh god," He grimaced. "That sounded bad. I didn't mean it like that, I swear. I just meant we could go out for coffee or something. Only if you want to, of course. God, I'm rambling now, aren't I?"

"It's alright." Annie assured him, smiling gently. To be honest, she found his nerves rather sweet. "I'd like that."

"Great." He grinned, and his face seemed to glow. "I'm free Fridays, so I'll come pick you up around one. Deal?"

"Deal." She confirmed.

She waited for him to reach the end of her drive before finally shutting the door.

She wasn't sure whether she wanted to kill Mags or hug her. Maybe she'd just have to wait and see how Friday went.

* * *

**I just want to remind you all that I'm more than willing to accept prompts for these. So long as it's nothing m-rated, I really don't mind. It can be canon or AU. And in terms of AU, really as domestic (university, perhaps? Or pizza delivery guy?) or as wacky as you like (idk pirates? Cowboys? Victorian London?). I mean seriously. Just drop it in a review or PM me and I'll do it :D**


	5. Smexysugarcube

**Hey!**

**So Mermaidodair said she'd like to see more modern AUs, so ta da! This one concerns a matter that I'm sure is very close to a lot of our hearts: fanfiction. I thought long and hard about a ship I could see Annie losing sleep over, and my eventual conclusion was Enjolras and Grantaire (E/R) from Les Miserables. You really don't need to have in-depth Les Mis knowledge to get this chapter, I promise. It will make sense without it. But for any Les Mis fans out there- Annie would so be an E/R shipper. She'd also ship Meponine. Tell me you guys see this.**

**I have written the next couple of stories out, I just need to type them up. So they should be up later today. Thank you ever so much for all your support!**

* * *

It was nearly three o'clock in the morning.

She had to leave at eight if she wanted to get to work on time.

Really, _really_, Annie needed to get some sleep.

Her finger clicked on 'next chapter' seemingly without her permission.

_Just one more,_ she tells herself sharply. _One more chapter, and then you really need to go to bed._

"Grantaire opened his front door to find Enjolras, wearing a sheepish expression and holding out a bouquet of roses."

Who was she kidding? Annie wasn't going to finish after this chapter.

Damn her stupid shipper heart.

* * *

It took all of Annie's self-control not to fall asleep at her desk that morning. An hour's sleep, in total, was all she'd managed to get.

A small, triumphant part of her was happy to have finished that fanfiction though. Even if Enjolras had seemed a little out of character at times, it really was a great story. Ever so fluffy. She'd had to stop several times so that she could squirm in her seat and giggle to herself.

Annie absolutely loved fluffy fanfiction.

Still, now, as she sipped at her coffee and hit random keys on her keyboard in the hope that if the boss looked over he might think she was busy, Annie severely questioned her reasoning skills. Most people would have just gone to bed, surely?

"Looks like somebody had a busy night." Johanna said suggestively, stopping beside Annie's desk. Judging by the bundle of paper in her arms, she'd just been on a trip to the printer down the hall.

"It's not like that, Johanna." Annie insisted tiredly, taking another swig of her coffee and glancing at the little clock in the bottom right of her computer screen.

Eleven am. Damn it. Lunch break wasn't until half one.

"_Sure_ it isn't." Johanna did not sound convinced. "So, come on then. Who's the lucky fellow?"

"There isn't one."

"No? Well, then, who's the lucky lady?"

"There _isn't_ one, Johanna."

"Alright then," Johanna winked. "Don't worry; I'll get it out of you."

"Good luck with that." Annie called after her retreating form.

She checked the clock again. Two minutes past eleven.

Damn it.

* * *

Annie all but stumbled through the glass door to the bakery at exactly thirty-six minutes past one.

It wasn't until she reached the counter that she realised the usual baker, the Peeta Mellark after whom this bakery was named, was not there. In his place was a tall, green-eyed stranger who had put his hat on slightly lop-sided.

"Where's Peeta?" Annie blurted out before she could help herself. She'd found years ago that she had very little self-control when she was tired.

"He's away this week." The stranger explained. "On his honeymoon."

"Ah," Now it had been mentioned, Annie did vaguely recall Peeta introducing her to his fiancé a few weeks ago- Katniss, wasn't it? She seemed nice- shy, though Annie could relate to that. Peeta had refused to have her anywhere near the kitchen, instead asking his wife-to-be to simply hand out the goods he had already prepared. Apparently, she was a terrible cook, but Peeta 'loved her all the more because of it'.

They really were sweet together, even if their ship name was Peeniss.

"I'm taking over for the week." The green-eyed stranger continued on. "I'm an old friend of Peeta's. Finnick," It took Annie a moment to realise that this peculiar change of subject was his way of introducing himself. "Finnick Odair."

"I'm Annie." She said with a small, polite smile.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful lady," If Annie was perhaps not so tired, maybe she would have blushed. However, right now all she really wanted was to eat and then to go. "What can I get for you, Annie?"

"A Chelsea bun and a gingerbread man," It was a less than healthy lunch, sure, but Annie didn't go to the bakery to be healthy. If she wanted to eat something sensible, she'd have gone to the grocer's across the road and bought herself an apple.

* * *

Annie arrived home from work that day with every intention of whipping herself up a quick dinner, changing into her pyjamas and going to bed.

However, somewhere between going to bed and falling asleep, she wound up on her phone.

Smexysugarcube had published a new fanfiction.

After staying up all last night reading one of their previous stories, the sensible part of Annie's brain begged her not to click through to this one.

She bit her lip, and clicked it anyway.

* * *

She'd not had chance to put concealer over the bags under her eyes before she left the house, waking up only ten minutes before her train was due to leave and having to run down to the station whilst still zipping up her jacket, shoelaces untied.

"Seriously, when do I get to meet him?" Johanna asked, stopping next to Annie's desk grinning. "He seems like a lotta fun, and that's just going by the state your face is in."

"I couldn't sleep, Johanna." Annie mumbled sleepily. "There's no-one for you to meet."

Johanna winked and walked away.

Despite herself, Annie smashed her forehead against her keyboard in frustration.

* * *

She had never been more thankful for lunch-time in her life.

Stumbling into Mellark's, she headed up to the counter, grateful that it was once again empty of customers.

"What can I get for you today, Annie?" Finnick asked. Urgh, his voice was so annoyingly cheerful today. Annie immediately felt bad for thinking it, but it was true.

Sometimes, when you're grouchy and tired, annoyingly happy people only make it worse.

"Chocolate," Annie says, "Something with chocolate in. I need chocolate."

"Okay, okay, calm down." Finnick teases her, grabbing a couple of chocolate brioches from display cabinet in the counter with a pair of tongs. "Will two be enough?"

Annie nods, already fumbling about in her purse for the required money.

Only she can't find it.

"Oh, damn it!" She curses.

"Is something wrong?" Finnick asks, genuine concern on his face.

"I can't find my money." Annie confesses. "I think I must've left it at home. I was in such a rush this morning. And oh god, now I'm just wasting your time, because I can't pay, so you'll just have to put those back. Can you even do that? Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Finnick reaches across the counter and rests his hands on her shoulders. Usually physical contact from a stranger like this would be unnerving, but today. Today, Annie doesn't seem to care about such things. Too tired, she reasons. "It's alright. Please don't cry. Honestly, it's alright."

"Really?" Annie hadn't realised she was crying.

Oh god, she'd made such a fool of herself in front of this green-eyed stranger.

"Really," He promises, smiling softly and removing his hands from her shoulders. They feel cold without his touch. "Now, do you want a bag for these?"

"I told you, I can't pay for them."

"Doesn't matter," Finnick grinned at her. "These are on the house. You clearly need them."

"Thank you," Annie says, meaning it. "Yes, please, I'd like a bag."

He grabs a paper bag and uses the tongs to put the two chocolate brioches inside, handing it across the counter to her.

"Thank you," Annie repeats. "Thank you so much."

"No problem," He assures her. "Any time!"

* * *

A fic update!

Smexysugarcube is on fire with these!

Annie decides that dinner can wait, instead snuggling up beneath her favourite blanket on the sofa. Phone in hand, she begins to read the latest chapter.

**"This chapter was inspired by a girl who came into the bakery where I'm working part-time, so I think it's only fair that I dedicate it to her. I'm sure someone like her has better things to be doing than reading gay Les Mis fanfic, so she'll never see this. But hey, a dedication's a dedication, am I right? So this one's for you, Annie."**

She can't have read that right. Bakery, Annie- no, she did.

Heavens above! She'd met her favourite writer- _twice_!- and didn't tell them how talented they were, or that she loves their work.

They could have spent her lunch break squealing over E/R together.

Urgh, if only she'd known!

* * *

"Johanna!" Annie all but leaps across her desk to grab her best friend's hand.

"What?" Johanna asks, wrenching her hand free. "Jeez, you're perky this morning. Boy-toy give you some peace last night?"

"I met smexysugarcube!" Annie squeals. Because she has to tell someone.

Johanna reaches across to pat Annie on the head tentatively. "That's one hell of a nickname you've given your boy-toy there, Ann, sweetheart."

* * *

"Smexysugarcube?" She calls out experimentally as she enters Mellark's bakery.

"Ah," Finnick stands behind the counter, sporting a blush that just about reaches the very tips of his ears. "You saw that?"

"You ship E/R." She's being awkward and impolite and weird, but for once in her life she doesn't care, despite being wide awake. "You're my favourite author."

"Really?" Finnick asks, positively glowing with pride.

"Really!" Annie insists enthusiastically. She's already bounced up to the counter and is now resting her elbows atop it. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Write so well!"

"God-given gift," Finnick teases with a smirk. Then, more sincerely, "Would you like me to give you lessons?"

"In writing gay Les Mis fanfic?" She giggles, because somehow the thought of that is hilarious.

"No, silly," Finnick laughs. "Writing in general."

"I'd like that." She tells him, because having the ability to write even half so well as he can would be amazing. "I honestly would."


	6. Strays

**Another one for mermaidodair- this time a Victorian AU. Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Annie Cresta had a habit of bringing home strays.

It had all started when she was four. She'd been out on a walk with her nanny when they had stumbled across a pigeon with a broken wing, and she had insisted that they take it home.

"Just until his wing heals." Mr Cresta had insisted.

But the matter was never raised again, and so Cooey the pigeon remained a member of the Cresta household until his death five years later.

After Cooey, Annie found herself bringing home larger things, although her terrible choice of names seemed something that would stick. Her brother Julien used to joke about it, saying that if she ever had a baby she'd best let her husband pick its name.

Joining the Cresta family over the years were Sock and Mittens, the cats; Nosy, the dog- an interesting mix of Labrador and what they suspected to be a Rottweiler; and then six more pigeons following Cooey, named Beaky, Flapper, Startle, Caw, Squeaky and Bounce.

Her strangest "stray", however, was without a doubt the one she brought home the December of the year she'd turned seventeen.

"He says his name is Finnick." She announced to her parents. "May I keep him? Please?"

The Cresta family could afford a third child, and Annie knew it. Her father was a banker, so their income was quite good. And besides, if they could afford to keep Nosy, who ate everything, then they could certainly keep this dirty, raggedy man. He didn't _look_ like he ate very much, anyway.

Something like defeat settled in her father's expression.

"Cecelia," He turned to the maid, who had quite conspicuously been listening at the door. "Take this... This _Finnick_ upstairs. I want him washed and in fresh clothes before dinner. He looks about Julien's height."

"Yes, Sir." Cecelia promised, taking Finnick by the wrist and leading him away.

* * *

For the first time in her life, Annie could hardly wait for dinner.

She sat in her chair, bouncing her legs up and down excitedly beneath the table. Beside her was Julien, who laughed and put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"Calm down." He advised.

Annie stopped bouncing her legs, but the excitement remained, bubbling away in her stomach like champagne.

When Cecelia eventually did show Finnick into the dining room, Annie found her breath taken away. Beneath all that mud and grime, his skin _glowed_. It looked healthy and alive- nothing like the corpse-like paleness most people she knew possessed, herself included. His hair was a gorgeous golden colour, not dirty blond as she'd initially thought. By the looks of it, Cecelia had attempted to tame it, however his curls remained wild and unruly.

Just looking at him made Annie feel nervous and excited all at once.

"That's much better, Cecelia." Mr Cresta complimented their maid, who blushed and curtsied, almost tripping over her dress in the process.

"Yes," Annie found herself saying, "Much better."

There was a dreamy quality to her voice, and it did not go unnoticed. Not by her mother, who warningly shook her head; not by her father, who raised an eyebrow suspiciously; not by Julien, who elbowed her in the side and smirked suggestively.

Not by Finnick, who sat down in the vacant seat the other side of her and smiled that heart-warming smile of his that had caught her eye on the street not three hours ago.

She knew she always said this, but the latest addition to their family was probably her favourite so far.


	7. Walking to the Hovercraft

**Okay, this is my last one for the day. If you've just clicked this, there are another two before this one, so idk you might wanna check those out?**

**This one was requested by hollyhobbit101, who asked for something to do with how Finnick felt when Annie left for the Hunger Games. I'm not sure this is what you meant, but I enjoyed writing it, so hopefully you'll enjoy reading it :)**

**Btw, just to clear up any possible confusion, Evelyn was Finnick's District partner.**

* * *

He has to walk her to the hovercraft.

He has to load her onto that horrid, noisy piece of machinery so that it can take her away from him and deposit her in Hell.

Whoever's idea it was to have the mentors take their tributes up to the hovercraft must surely be evil. They'd have to be.

Because mentors are victors, and victors were tributes, and no tribute would ever wish the Hunger Games upon anybody. Not even their worst enemy. Heck, not even President Snow.

Annie Cresta is no President Snow.

Her token is a simple knot bracelet, and she's always fiddling with it. Even know, as they walk.

Finnick couldn't say exactly why he finds the habit sweet, but he does. He's found over the last few days that a lot of things that Annie Cresta does are sweet.

"Don't get attached," they always tell new mentors. And thus far, Finnick thinks he's done a pretty good job.

But then Annie was reaped. Annie with her big blue-green eyes and the light splattering of freckles spanning the bridge of her nose.

She reminds him so much of Evelyn.

And he killed Evelyn. Killed her with his own two hands. The life leaving her bright eyes still haunts his nightmares even now, years later.

But then there's Annie. Annie who has such similar eyes, only hers are still filled with light and with life.

"I'm scared." She tells him once they reach the hovercraft.

He finds himself tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You'll do great."

She snorts in a manner far from lady-like, which makes Finnick smile.

"I'm rooting for you, Cresta." He tells her. "Do me proud."

She smiles a small, nervous smile. "I'll try."

And then she's aboard and it's leaving and his hair is flying all over the place and _Lord_, will his ears _ever_ stop rumbling?

He couldn't save Evelyn. There could only be one victor after all. And even if he regrets that decision every single day, wishes that it was she who had stabbed him in the back (literally) instead, he can't take it back.

Evelyn is dead.

But maybe, just maybe, he could save Annie Cresta.


	8. Annie's Song

**I saw this prompt on Tumblr (thank you, otpprompts!), and I just had to do it. It fits them so well! Admittedly I did take a few liberties- it doesn't end with him asking her out since they're already dating in this one, but hey. Hopefully this one will at least make you smile! :)**

**Oh, and btw, the song goes to the same tune as _Ginny's Song_ from _A Very Potter Musical_. **

* * *

_Prompt: Imagine Person B has written a song for Person A on the ukelele. Person B plays it to Person C just to get C's opinion on it. Turns out that the song is horrible. When B goes up to A with ukelele in hand and starts strumming the song, C swoops in and smashes the ukelele right before B has a chance to sing it. C tells B: "Just take 'em on a date."_

* * *

It is a well-known fact that composing a song for somebody you love can be very romantic, if done right.

It can also be horribly embarrassing, but people tend to forget that part.

Finnick Odair was always looking for new, cutesy little ways to remind his girlfriend how important she was to him. But after three notebooks full of sappy poetry and an entire garden's worth of flowers, he was starting to feel as though he should try something else.

"Maybe a song?" His friend Peeta suggested. "I personally sound like a dying cat when I try to sing, but you... I think that could work."

So Finnick wrote a song (which turned out to be surprisingly similar to writing poetry), and sang it to himself. And though it was definitely a good song lyrics-wise, it was missing something.

An instrumental accompaniment, he realised.

Several cups of coffee later, Finnick finally found the instrument with the right sound online at three am.

It was perfect.

He ordered one straight away, and hoped it would arrive promptly.

* * *

Johanna just let herself into Finnick's house, as usual, without knocking.

"Hello?" She called out experimentally.

"I'm in the toilet!" Finnick's voice yelled back from another room.

"Good to know!" Johanna shouted, flopping down on the sofa. "There's some kinda box for you on the doorstep by the way! You expecting anything?"

There came the sound of the toilet flushing. Finnick poked his head around the door a few seconds later.

"As a matter of fact," He said, hurrying across the living room and opening the front door.

Sure enough, on the doorstep sat a box with his name on it.

Grinning, he picked it up and carried it inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

"What is it?" Johanna asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees as he placed the parcel on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa beside her.

Finnick slid the box closer and began to peel off the parcel tape sealing it shut, "A ukulele."

Johanna laughed, but stopped abruptly when she realised that he was being serious. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Peeta said I should write a song for Annie." Finnick explained sheepishly, his new ukulele sat nestled in his lap. "I did some research and this was the only instrument that fit the tone of the song I wrote."

Johanna leaned back in her seat once again and folded her arms. "I'll believe it when I hear it."

"What?" It took a moment for the request to register. "You want me to play it for you?"

"Come on," She smirked. "Or I'll just assume it's rubbish."

"Hey!" Finnick snapped defensively. He had spent _hours_ labouring over that piece of music. It was his _baby_. "Fine, I'll play you the song. But you can't tell Annie, okay? I want it to be a surprise."

"Okay," Johanna promised tiredly. "Just play the damn song already!"

And so Finnick played the song.

He had never touched a ukulele before, but in the days spent waiting for its arrival he had looked up thousands of tutorials online teaching you how to play, so he had a rough idea of what he was doing.

And when he was done, he was rather proud of it. It really did sound better with something else there, in the background.

He studied Johanna's face, gauging her reaction.

She stared at him blankly for a moment before bursting out into hysterical laughter.

"What?" Finnick asked. "What's so funny?"

"It's awful." She managed to force out between bouts of laughter. "Are you seriously gonna sing that to Annie?"

"I thought it was pretty good." He huffed, adding in a childish lip pout for good measure.

Johanna stopped laughing and looked at him sternly. "Seriously, you're my best friend. I don't want you embarrassing yourself. Do _not_ play that to Annie."

Finnick said nothing, merely picked up the remote, put his new ukulele on the coffee table, and stood up so as to turn the television on.

Annie would understand him.

* * *

The doorbell rang.

Giving herself one last quick glance in the mirror and smoothing her dark hair down with her hands in a vain attempt to tame it, Annie hurried to the door.

"Why do you have a violin case with you?" She asked her boyfriend suspiciously. "You look like a 1920's gangster."

It was a fair point. Since their date was at a formal restaurant, he was wearing a tuxedo, which only really heightened her comparison further.

"I have a surprise for you." Finnick told her, smiling excitedly. "Close your eyes. I'll tell you when it's okay to open them."

Grinning, Annie covered her eyes with her hands and waited.

"Okay, I'm ready."

She opened her eyes to find Finnick holding a ukulele, the violin case from before lying open at his feet.

Annie laughed excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Finnick had absolutely no reason to surprise her- she knew without a doubt that he loved her. But he seemed to enjoy doing it, and she loved how it made her heart leap every single time, so she wasn't about to complain.

"I wrote a song for you." He explained to her. "Want to hear it?"

She nodded, biting her lower lip to keep from squealing. "Yes, please!"

Finnick took a deep breath and started to play:

_"She always looks so dandy,_

_Sweeter than cotton candy,_

_Annie!_

_She makes me feel all funny,_

_Like it's snowing but it's sunny,_

_Annie!_

_She-"_

How Johanna managed to sneak up the garden path without Annie seeing her, we may never know. But it happened nevertheless.

Grabbing Finnick's shoulders from behind and spinning him around to face her, she snatched the ukulele off of him and proceeded to hit it repeatedly against the wall of Annie's house.

"I said," Smash, "That song," Smash, "Was rubbish!" Smash.

Annie stood there as her boyfriend wrestled the broken remains of his ukulele off of his best friend, wanting desperately to intervene but not seeing how she could be much help.

Out of breath, Johanna turned to face Annie and smiled innocently, kindly.

"Enjoy your date." She said sincerely, turning and leaving.

Annie knelt down on the floor beside Finnick, who was now sitting with his broken ukulele resting in his lap.

"Change of plan," He told her, his tone serious. "I'm going to cancel our reservation, and then we are going to give Steve a funeral. It's what he would have wanted."


	9. Keeping A Secret

**They cut the she crept up on me line :(**

**But it's okay, because the odesta reunion was flawless. Seriously, if you haven't see Mockingjay yet, that scene is perfect. Most of the movie is perfect. Just needs more odesta.**

* * *

_Prompt: Finnick survives and goes back with Annie to district four where she tells him he is going to be a father._

* * *

Finnick is used to being the one who knows and is entrusted with everybody's secrets. He likes to know the little things that other people don't. Before the revolution, it made him feel as though he possessed a tiny bit of power over the Capitol's elite. Because yes, President Snow could have had Annie killed at any moment, but Finnick knew why he was always kept a rose on his person.

The war is over. Negotiations over who should take charge are underway, but it's looking like it might be Paylor. She'll make a good leader, Finnick thinks. Fair and just- exactly what Panem needs after all these years of repression.

Finnick and Annie don't have a lot of belongings in 13. But Annie wants to take her wedding dress back to 4 with them and, after checking that Katniss didn't want it back, is currently in search of a bag to put it in.

Haymitch eventually provides them with one and Mr Odair takes his new wife back to their shared quarters one last time before they leave.

"Finnick," Annie says, folding her wedding dress and dropping it into the plastic bag he holds open for her. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Is that so?" Finnick asks, his curiosity piqued.

Annie nods.

"And what might that be?" He presses when she doesn't elaborate.

Annie smirks mischievously. "You'll have to wait and see."

* * *

The hovercraft that takes them back to 4 is incessantly loud, as hovercrafts always are. Still, that doesn't stop Finnick from looking across at Annie in the seat beside him and yelling, "Can you tell me now?" over the din.

Annie smiles back sweetly, shouting back, "No."

* * *

They decide to make Finnick's house in the Victor's Village their official home.

He hasn't been there since the morning he was reaped for the Quarter Quell. The bowl of soggy cornflakes he'd half-eaten that day still sits on the kitchen table, where he left it, and the cushion he threw at the wall still lies on the floor.

It's like walking into a moment, frozen in time.

Or a ghost house.

As though sensing his melancholy mood, Annie takes her wedding dress out of its bag and holds it up to herself.

"Does it suit me, Finn?" She jokes.

It's a beautiful dress. _She's_ beautiful. He told her on their wedding day, while they danced, that she looked like a dream. And he meant it.

Laughing, she twirls around his living room (technically, _theirs_ now), the skirt of the dress fanning out behind her like a tail.

He can't help but smile at her.

"Everything suits you, Ann." He tells her, steadying her by placing two hands on her shoulders. "You even made those District 13 jumpsuits look stunning."

With a giggle, she swats at his chest with one hand, the other still clutching her wedding dress to her chest.

"Now, Annie, love," Finnick whispers, leaning closer to her.

"Yes?" Her eyes dart down to his lips, back up to meet his gaze.

Their noses brush.

Annie stands on tiptoe, goes to kiss him, but he moves out of the way just before she can reach him.

"So, that secret you had?" He asks, a devious smirk playing on his lips.

Annie sighs and rolls her eyes.

"I'm not going to kiss you until you tell me." He insists, pouting.

Wriggling out of his grip, Annie takes a step back.

For a moment, he thinks she's going to be stubborn. He thinks she's going to tell him that that's fine, and that she can live without his kisses, and that he'll break before she does. He usually does.

Annie folds her wedding dress without a word, walking across the room to place it gently upon the sofa.

"I'm pregnant." She tells the wall.

Finnick is sure he can't have heard her right, but then she's turning around to face him with this big, goofy grin on her face that he can't help but mimic.

"Finn, I'm pregnant." She repeats.

Finnick crosses the room to meet her in two long strides, grabbing her face in both of his hands and kissing her.

"That," He says once they stop, out of breath and giddy, "Is the best secret anyone has ever told me."

Annie giggles, "I'm glad."


	10. Life and Death

**This one contains Everlark. In fact, it's mostly Everlark-based to be honest, though there's also lots of odesta so I'm going to put it here rather than publish it separately.**

**Katniss is so difficult to keep in character. I really hope I haven't butchered her too much.**

**I love you, Katniss, I swear!**

* * *

_Odesta/Everlark Prompt: Katniss goes to Annie for some advice on how she can help Peeta._

* * *

When Peeta was in the Capitol, Finnick told her that he'd be better off dead. When she'd learned about the rescue party, she dared to allow herself to hope. When she was told he was safe and she could see him, she could hardly believe it. All those nights of nightmares and crying, all those days sitting with Finnick because he was the only one in this entire district who seemed to understand, over.

It seemed as though Finnick had gotten his wish, in part at least; the Peeta Mellark she knew, maybe even loved, had died in the Capitol.

Katniss had been explicitly told to go nowhere near his cell. In fact, Haymitch had actually said he'd rather she stayed in her hospital bed and got some more rest.

But Haymitch wasn't there, and she wasn't going to lie around and let such a perfect opportunity to escape pass her by.

Her feet took her towards Peeta's cell before she even realised what direction she was headed, and by then it was far too late to change course. Up to the one-sided glass she went, and dear lord.

They'd had to tie him to the bed. He thrashed against his bonds futilely, and it _hurt_. Katniss couldn't explain how, but it _hurt_ her to see him like this. Physically, somewhere within her chest (as sappy as it sounded- urgh, she wanted to cringe just thinking about it), it hurt her.

She knew that currently everyone else in District 13 was listening to one of Coin's mandatory speeches (it was the only reason she'd been left alone in the first place), so headed back to the small quarters she shared with her mother and Prim to wait it out.

She knew it was over when she heard footsteps outside, and so left before Prim and her mother could return. Love them though she did, she didn't really want to see them right now. They wouldn't understand.

Finnick.

She had to find Finnick.

He might've had Annie back, but thus far he'd been the only person in 13 who had understood. Well, besides Haymitch, but if her ex-mentor learnt that she had defied his orders he would not be particularly happy with her, and she didn't much fancy being yelled at.

Many days spent tying knots together and recounting memories of Annie and Peeta meant that Katniss knew the way to Finnick's quarters by heart. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the buzzer to the right of the doorframe.

The metal door slid to the right, and Katniss was surprised to find Annie Cresta on the other side; she'd thought Coin was still keeping all the recently-rescued victors in the hospital, just until they'd built their strength back up again.

"Is Finnick in?" Katniss had never been one for formalities, instead choosing to cut right to the chase.

Annie shook her head, "President Coin wanted to see him. Why? Is something wrong?"

"No," it was her automatic response to any such question. "I'm fine."

But Annie could see right through her, and so stepped aside, "Come in. Finnick will be back soon, I'm sure."

Unsure of how to weasel her way out of this without being rude, Katniss accepted Annie's offer and walked through, sitting down on the sofa. The door hissed as it slid shut behind her.

"Can I get you a drink?" Annie asked. Katniss shook her head. "Well, I'm thirsty. I'll be back in two secs."

She disappeared into the small kitchen area present in all the District 13 rooms- which contained a sink and a cupboard big enough for a small amount of spare food, in case of emergency- re-emerging a short while later with a glass of water.

She sat down beside Katniss, took a sip from her water, and said nothing.

Katniss couldn't tell you what it was that made her open up to this person she barely knew. Maybe it was the fact that the silence preceding it was uncomfortable and stuffy. Maybe it was the fact that Annie just had one of those trustworthy faces, the sort that you just wanted to tell your entire life story to for some inexplicable reason. Whatever it was, Katniss eventually broke the silence:

"How do I help Peeta?" She asked, wincing at how desperate her voice sounded. "How do I get him back?"

Annie seemed surprised that Katniss had actually said anything, though she quickly shook her shock off. "You haven't lost him, really. He's still in there. You just have to remind him who you are and everything he felt for you."

"But how do I do that?" Katniss pressed. "The Capitol have convinced him I'm pure evil, that every hardship he's ever faced can be traced back to me and that I'm to blame for everything that's ever gone wrong in his life."

"Is that true?" Annie asked calmly. "_Are_ you to blame for everything wrong in Peeta's life?"

"I'm probably-"

"Of course you're not to blame." Annie cut her off. "Would he ever have fallen in love with you if you were?"

Katniss mumbled out a quiet "no."

"You just need to remind him who you really are, as opposed to who he's been programmed to _think_ you are." She continued, her voice unwaveringly calm. It was reassuring, its soothing quality reminding Katniss of her father a little. "It will take time, of course, but then most things worth anything do."

"Thank you," Katniss found herself saying, making a mental note to repay the favour and do something nice and helpful for Annie at a later date. Then, before she could help it, "You don't seem too crazy at all."

She regretted it almost as soon as she said it, could hardly pluck up the courage to look Annie in the eye afterwards. Still, she'd done braver things, and after a few seconds of inner conflict she allowed herself to glance up through her loose brown hair, making eye contact with Annie Cresta, the girl they called crazy.

To her immense relief, Annie didn't snap at her. Or burst into tears. Katniss wasn't sure which reaction she'd dislike most to be honest; she really didn't want to be yelled at while she was feeling so emotionally fragile, but at the same time she was never particularly good with tears either.

"No more crazy than anyone else who's survived the hunger games," She even joked, smiling slightly.

Feeling a little better about her whole situation, Katniss stood up. "I should be going."

"But Finnick isn't back yet!"

"I'm actually feeling a lot better now." Katniss said, giving Annie one of her rare genuine smiles.

"Should I tell him you stopped 'round?" Annie asked, getting up to follow Katniss to the door.

Katniss shook her head. "I wouldn't want him to worry."

She made a point to take the long way back to her own quarters, just to ensure that she avoided bumping into Finnick should he be returning from his meeting with Coin.

That night, for the first time since she'd arrived in District 13, Katniss slept peacefully. Because Peeta wasn't dead. He was just... lost, for the time being. She could get him back. She _would_ get him back. She had to.


	11. Nerio's First Christmas

**This is a late Christmas present. I love you all! I hope all of you who celebrate Christmas had a nice day, and those of you who don't, hopefully you had a nice day, too :)**

**There is a surprise implied-ship (as well as Odesta ofc) in this. I have no idea where it came from it just sort of... happened... Still, I think it's a sweet idea, so I'm going to keep it there. This is probably going to go the same way as Cineca in that I start of like "Aw, that would be a sweet ship. Very interesting." and then become a hardcore shipper by accident.**

* * *

_Prompt: Annie and her son celebrate their first Christmas together without Finnick :(_

* * *

Finnick had always loved Christmas. He'd appear on Annie's doorstep in Victor's Village at half past six in the morning every year, a lop-sided Santa hat upon his head and a snowy white beard hanging around his neck (the elastic had loosened long ago, and he hadn't wanted to replace it "for old times' sake"). In his hand would be a sack full of presents, and Annie would stand there in the doorway, still wearing her pyjamas, and yawn at him.

"Ho, ho, ho!" Finnick would say. "Merry Christmas!"

She'd let him in, start the fire burning in the living room, and head upstairs to get dressed while Finnick arranged the presents beneath the tree. She'd bring down several gifts of her own to add to his plethora, and always feel bad that there were never as many for him as there were for her.

"It's fine," Finnick would assure her every year. "You always give the best presents. I give people loads because I'm never sure what they'll like. But you, you might only give me a couple, but they're things I really want."

They'd wait for Mags to arrive before they did anything else, flicking the tv on and snuggling up together on the sofa, watching cheesy Christmas movie after Christmas movie to pass the time.

Mags would show up with a box of home-made mince pies. One year, she even brought over gingerbread versions of themselves, and Finnick commented on how his miniature was "realistically gorgeous" and Annie thanked her for the sentiment, and hugged her close, and felt incredibly guilty for eating it as it looked so... alive.

They'd open their presents together. Finnick always gave the most gifts, as well as the most expensive- bottles of perfume, golden jewellery studded with diamonds, dresses made from real silk, champagne. Annie's, by contrast, were always things she'd picked up in District 4- bracelets she'd made out of sea shells and string, little trinkets she'd found in the market place. Mags' gifts differed every year. Sometimes it would be a homemade scarf and a soft little teddy bear, other years it was bars of chocolate the length of Annie's arm, and three times as thick.

But this Christmas, for the first time in years she isn't awoken by the buzz of the doorbell at six, and is instead awoken by the sun streaming through her curtains at nine am.

She pops into baby Nerio's room and, finding him already awake, picks him up out of his cot.

"Shall we go see what Santa got for you?" She asks. Nerio babbles happily and proceeds to wrap a lock of Annie's hair around one of his pudgy hands. She takes that as a yes.

Downstairs, beneath the tree, several presents lie waiting for Nerio. She sets him down on the carpet, grabbing the first of the gifts and shaking it in front of him.

"What's this?" She says, feigning genuine confusion; she wrapped it, so of course she knows what it is. The present rattles, capturing her son's interest. He reaches forward, trying to grab it. "What's this, Nerio?"

He continues trying to reach for it. Annie helps him pull the paper off of it, doing most of the work herself and trying desperately to stop him from putting cello-tape in his mouth.

She gasps once they've unwrapped it fully, as though the content of the parcel is a tremendous surprise.

Shaking the new rattle in front of Nerio, she lets him take it from her and lunges to grab the next of his presents.

There's nothing for her this year, but then that's okay. Hearing her son's delighted giggle, seeing him smile, is present enough for her. If she tries hard enough, she can even kid herself that Finnick is upstairs in bed, or in the kitchen cooking the Christmas dinner.

* * *

Leaving Nerio with his new gifts, Annie pops into the kitchen to get dinner started. Peeta had sent her down several baby-friendly recipes at the start of December, and she gets started on the easiest-looking of those. She's never been much of a cook, and she wants her baby boy to enjoy his first Christmas.

Nerio's lunch is in the microwave when the doorbell sounds.

Confused, Annie unties her apron and tosses it onto the sofa, checking on Nerio quickly before going to answer the door.

Johanna and Delly stand on the doorstep. Delly's hair is in braids, tied at the ends with festive red and green ribbon. Johanna has a Santa hat pulled over her short crop of hair (somehow, Annie doubts it was her idea), and a pile of presents in her arms.

"Trick or treat," She says with a grin.

Delly elbows her pointedly.

"Ow!" Johanna shoots her a glare, though it doesn't last long. "Can we come in?"

Annie steps aside, still confused, and allows the pair to enter her house.

They head straight for the living room, where Johanna is quick to deposit their presents beneath the tree. Delly makes a beeline for Nerio, lifting him up and away from his new building blocks and spinning him around.

"My goodness, you've grown!" She tells him. Nerio laughs and babbles out something incoherent. "You're going to be a giant when you're older, you are!"

"A sexy giant," Johanna adds, watching the entire exchange from beside the Christmas tree. "He has his dad's eyes and his mum's hair; it's a combination most people would kill for."

Annie smiles proudly. Johanna makes eye contact with her across the living room.

"Are you okay?" She mouths. Annie nods, because strangely enough, she is.

The microwave beeps, signalling that Nerio's lunch is ready.

"You haven't been making Christmas lunch in the _microwave_!" Johanna scolds.

"Just Nerio's!" Annie quickly defends her actions. "I was going to make myself a turkey sandwich or something."

Delly ceases bouncing Nerio up and down on her hip so that she can turn to face his mother, disbelief upon her face. "It's lucky we came!"

Without another word, she hands the baby to Annie and grabs Johanna's hand, dragging her into the kitchen.

Though Johanna would never admit to it, her cooking skills are exceptional, and so Annie doesn't complain. Instead, she helps her son build a tower of blocks and knock it down, over and over, until Delly pops her head around the door and says lunch is ready.

* * *

Annie insists that Delly and Johanna stay the night, letting them borrow the guest room under the promise that they won't do anything inappropriate, considering that Nerio's room is just the other side of the wall.

That night, with everyone else tucked up safely in bed, Annie opens the front door and heads out.

It's only a short walk to the beach, and of all the places in the world it is here that she feels closest to Finnick.

It had been a good Christmas, she thinks. Different, yes, but still good.

Annie's feet take her automatically to the secluded patch of beach that she always used to share with Finnick, hidden from view for everyone except those who knew it existed. Her bare feet are well-used to climbing cliffs and walking on hard pebbles, and she reaches the beach in no time at all.

Closing her eyes, Annie lets the wind tousle her hair, make her dressing gown fly all around her like a cape.

When she opens her eyes, it's because something dripping wet is rubbing against the bare skin of her ankle.

There, in the darkness, she can just about pick out the shape of a puppy. Its fur is plastered against its body, and it's shivering with cold.

Annie had never really believed in fate, but it was something Finnick had always been adamant about, and when faced with something like this, she found herself wondering if maybe he had been onto something.

Picking the soaking wet puppy up off the floor, she searches around his neck for a collar. Indeed, there is a leather strap around his neck, but no metal medallion stating his name or address.

How strange.

She does, however, find a piece of paper tucked into the gap between dog and leather.

Taking it out, she sets the puppy back down by her feet and unfolds the wet piece of paper. It's dark, yes, but she can just about make out the words by moonlight:

"Hello,

My name is Seamus. My daddy couldn't look after me anymore :( Please give me a nice new home. I'll be good. I am house-trained and great with children, and I already know commands like sit and stay. I just need somebody to love me. Please, Annie Odair."

Right up until the last line, she'd found the note sweet, but those final three words... This can't be coincidence.

She isn't sure what it is. She isn't sure she _wants_ to know. Still, whatever it is, she doesn't feel as though she has much of a choice. She can't just leave this puppy here on the beach, shivering and cold, especially not on Christmas.

As she carries Seamus back home, she lets herself wonder if maybe, just maybe, it was Finnick. He'd always wanted a puppy, and writing something from the dog's point of view is exactly the mad sort of thing she could see him doing.

She dismisses the idea almost immediately. Finnick is dead. He can't leave presents.

* * *

**Joelly?**


	12. Among The Flowers

**I wanted to write a time travel AU. So... ta da! I was originally going to do one where Annie goes back in time and meets Finn and accidentally kills him, only he's her great-grandfather so she prevents her own birth, thus preventing her from killing him, thus meaning she can be born, meaning she can go back and kill him, creating a super-confusing paradox. In the end, as you can see, I decided to go with a completely different idea. I hope you guys like it :) If there's anything you find confusing about it though, let me know, and I'll do my best to clear things up for you :)**

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Professor Crane asked. Annie nodded her head. "Good. Remember, don't do anything that might have adverse consequences. You're the first person to go back, Annie. We're trusting you."

"I know," she said. She wasn't entirely sure what else she _could_ say.

Satisfied, Professor Crane moved across the room to the control panel. "Whenever you're ready," he nodded in the direction of the little white cubicle in the centre of the room.

Her heart was pounding in her ears. Wiping her palms, which were suddenly sweaty, on the fabric of her jeans, she opened the door to the cubicle and stepped inside.

It was small and plain, with a phone-like contraption set up on the side opposite the door so that she could communicate with the base should their mission prove successful, and a large button with a basic picture of a house on it. The idea was that she could press that, and materialise back in the lab again.

Professor Crane must've pressed the launch button on the control panel outside, because the cubicle began to shake. Just like they'd practiced, Annie placed her hands on either side of the cubicle and braced herself as the shaking got more violent. After about thirty seconds, it finally stopped.

Taking a moment to recover, Annie reached up to check that her neat bun was still in place at the back of her head. Turning on the spot, she hesitated a moment before reaching for the handle. What if it hadn't worked? Snow Labs had spent years coming up with this technology. What if it was all for nothing?

With a deep breath, Annie opened the door and poked her head out of the cubicle.

Well, whatever had happened, she certainly wasn't in the lab anymore. Instead, she found herself in the middle of what appeared to be a garden. In the distance, she could just about make out the shape of a man sitting on a bench. Judging by his clothing (or what she could see of it from so far away), he was wearing a bizarre hat and some very oddly shaped trousers. Either that, or he had very strangely shaped legs.

With an excited squeal, Annie shut the cubicle door and grabbed the "phone" from the wall.

"Hello?" she said experimentally. Rather than a response, she was instead met with the static buzzing of a dead line. She'd have to report that back to Professor Crane when she got back to the lab so that he could fix it.

That would have to wait, however. She was the first human being to time travel; it would be wrong of her not to seize the opportunity to explore.

Exiting the cubicle, Annie looked around her. She stood on a path made out of brick in different shades of red. All around there were flowerbeds packed full of various different plant varieties. It truly was beautiful, especially coupled with the clear blue sky up above her.

"Hey!" called the oddly dressed man from before.

Professor Crane had always stressed that she shouldn't talk to anyone in the past, in case she accidentally changed the future. But since this man had already noticed her, surely it would be rude to ignore him. And besides, now that she was closer than before, she could see that he was actually rather good looking. What harm could talking to one guy do?

"You, boy, come here," the man waved her over.

Annie approached cautiously, having looked over her shoulder to check that there was nobody standing behind her. "I'm a woman," she said, bewildered.

"You are?" Annie was by now standing in front of the man, who looked her up and down and shrugged. "I suppose you are. I'm sorry, but at that distance I just saw the trousers and so I thought... Why on _earth_ are you wearing trousers, anyway?"

"I find them easier to do my work in."

"You work?" The man leaned forward on his knees, setting the piece of paper and the feather quill he had been using down on the bench beside him. "My Lord, you just keep on getting more and more interesting! What is it that you do?"

"I work for Snow Laboratories." Seeing his confusion, realising he must have no idea what she was talking about, Annie elaborated in the simplest way she could think of; "we invent things."

"Ah, you're an inventor!" He seemed amazed, maybe even proud, which Annie found rather flattering if she was honest. "Can I just say you are the prettiest inventor I've ever met?"

"Met a lot of inventors then?" Annie folded her arms. Was she flirting? God, she was, wasn't she. This _definitely_ had to be against Professor Crane's rules.

"As a matter of fact," the man trailed off with a grin. "They usually tend to be doddery old men with beards though. You, madam, are a lovely exception, I think."

Annie looked down, blushing.

"Pray tell, madam, what is your name?" The man pressed.

"I'm Annie," she replied. "Yours?"

"Finn. Finn Odair. Keep an ear out, fair Annie; in years to come, it will be a name renowned worldwide."

"Oh?" Annie asked, struggling to remember a Finn Odair in her old school history books. She was quite sure that there wasn't one.

"Indeed," Finn Odair nodded solemnly. "Look out for me, fair Annie."

Annie shuffled her feet awkwardly, embarrassed as she was unsure of what else there was left to say.

"Should I show you the gardens?" Finn Odair offered, standing up and offering his arm.

Annie latched onto it and smiled up at him, "I'd love that."

* * *

She returned back to the lab exactly five minutes after she left. Upon exiting the cubicle, she was almost immediately jumped on by Professor Crane.

"It worked!" he said, breathless and excited, squeezing her shoulders and grinning from ear to ear. "Annie, we did it!"

Caught up in his excitement, Annie couldn't help but laugh. "We did, Professor! We did!"

"I sent you to 1515- it was a fun number to type because I could just hit the same two keys super fast." Again, Annie laughed. "So? What was it like? Tell me!"

"You sent me to a garden," she replied cautiously. "It was very beautiful, unlike any I've ever seen before."

"You didn't talk to anyone, did you?" Professor Crane asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

Annie shook her head. She felt bad for lying, but if he learned the truth he would never let her near lab equipment again, let alone trust her with the exciting things like time travel.

There came a knock at the door, saving Annie from Professor Crane's unconvinced glare.

"Come in," he said.

Peeta Mellark, a fellow scientist at Snow Labs, entered holding a book of romantic poetry. He'd been attempting to woo Katniss, who worked in the biology department, for a while now without success, and a friend had suggested her learn to recite some poetry. Apparently, there was no quicker way to a woman's heart than romantic poetry. By this point, Peeta was so desperate to be noticed by the surly brunette that he was more or less willing to try anything.

"Peeta, what can we do for you?" Professor Crane asked.

In response, the blond hurried across the room to present a page in his poetry book to Annie, "look at this one!"

Annie took the book from him and began to read a poem entitled "Inventor Of My Pain" while Peeta continued to talk.

"It reminded me of you. I mean, look at that description- "eyes as blue as the skies I'm under, Hair like chestnut wood." It even describes your laugh perfectly!"

Peeta had a point; the poem did seem to describe her perfectly and, after her recent encounter with a wannabe poet, she found herself feeling a little on edge.

"What did you say the poem's called?" Professor Crane asked from across the room. Peeta responded with the title. "Ah, yes, I know that one. I studied Odair in high school."

"You did?" Honestly, Annie had never heard of him before she met him.

Professor Crane nodded, "oh, yes. He wrote some gorgeous poems about his wife."

"Wife?" Annie suddenly felt bad for flirting with him.

Professor Crane, thankfully oblivious to her thoughts, nodded, "Cashmere Odair. There's a famous painting they think might depict her; she was very beautiful. He out-lived her by a few years, wrote his most famous poem in memory of her- "Golden Spun", I think it's called."

For some reason she can't quite place, the fact that Finn Odair was not only married, but to a beautiful woman, made Annie feel queasy.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Annie visited that garden often. She told Professor Crane that it was calming, and that it helped her relax when things got too stressful for her at work. Which, in her defence, was true. But it wasn't just because of the beautiful flowers; in fact, it was slightly more to do with the beautiful owner of said flowers.

Professor Crane couldn't send her to the same day more than once, so to Finn Odair's mind Annie's visits were random and spaced out. From Annie's perspective, they happened almost daily.

They grew close. She'd never met anyone she could talk to like she could with him. She felt as though she could say what was truly on her mind, no matter how awful she felt about it, and he wouldn't judge her for it. Equally, he opened up to her. He told her about how horrible his childhood had been, how he'd actually been grateful when his abusive parents told him that they had arranged a marriage for him and that he was to move out at fourteen to start a family of his own. That had been ten years ago, and his wife had yet to give birth to a live child. He insisted he didn't mind, but Annie knew he was lying. After some gentle prodding, she managed to coax the truth out of him; he'd love to be a father, but if his wife couldn't have children then he was alright with that. He'd hate to hurt her or, god forbid, for her to die giving birth to a living child.

"She's annoying," he explained, "and she could talk the hind legs off a donkey, but ten years living in close proximity with someone means you grow fond of them."

They had their first kiss on the 25th of August 1517. Annie immediately felt bad, all too aware of what it felt like to be cheated on after a particularly horrid experience when she was seventeen. However, Finn assured her that Cashmere wouldn't mind, and that he knew of several affairs she'd had over the course of their marriage, so really he was allowed to have this little one.

* * *

About a year after meeting Finn (her time), Annie faced a dilemma.

Professor Crane was at Coin Industries, a sister laboratory, to discuss future plans and collaborations. Annie had been entrusted with the time travel suite in his absence, which ordinarily would be fine; Annie Cresta was a very responsible individual.

However, on this particular day, she felt stressed. There was so much paperwork to do as head of suite, and Johanna from the botanical department kept pestering her about some book she'd allegedly borrowed (Annie couldn't remember ever even _seeing_ said book, let alone asking to read it), meaning that Annie couldn't even leave the lab without being bombarded. Now, she was enjoying the only bit of peace and quiet she'd had all day, and even that had been achieved by moving one of the desks so that it blocked the door to the lab, making it absolutely impossible for Johanna to enter. Unless she scaled the building and climbed in through the window, which Annie couldn't really put past her.

The only other person in the room was Peeta, which Annie didn't mind. She liked Peeta. He wouldn't add more things for her to do to her already crippling load.

Annie knew the only thing that could make her feel like her usual self was a meeting with Finnick. The problem was, she couldn't operate the control panel and travel back at the same time.

After much internal arguing, Annie eventually decided to go against her better judgement and ask Peeta to send her back.

"I have no idea how!" Peeta spluttered, clearly taken aback by her request.

"It's easy," Annie reassured him. "You just select a year, a day, a month, and a location. The last one is already set- you just need to pick the date."

"What date do I put?" She could hear the panic rising in her friend's voice.

"22nd of September 1527," Annie decided, after giving it a little thought. That should put her about a week after her last visit.

"Got it," Peeta said, fiddling with the controls. Satisfied, Annie entered the cubicle and shut the door, eagerly anticipating her next meeting.

Peeta only realised that he'd accidentally put 1537 instead after Annie had departed, but he figured the garden should still be there. And, after all, it was the garden that she always said relaxed her, calmed her down, so how was he to know any different?

* * *

After wandering the garden for some time and finding no-one, Annie began to grow worried. Finnick was always in the garden during the day; it was where he drew inspiration from for his poetry. It was where he saw her.

For the first time, Annie decided to approach the house.

Praying silently that it would be him who opened the door, Annie felt her heart sink when a woman with blonde hair streaked with grey opened it instead. Her eyes were blue and, though her face was worn and wrinkled, Annie could tell that she'd been a beauty in her youth.

"Excuse me," Annie said, "is Finn in?"

The woman wrinkled her nose, "is this some sort of joke?"

"No," Annie said, confused, "I'm a friend. I just wanted to see him."

"Finn died." As soon as the words left the woman's lips, her blue eyes became clouded by tears. "He died eight years ago."

"No," Annie found herself insisting. "No, that can't be right."

"He went for a walk along the cliffs, and he never came back." The woman explained. "He's _dead_."

"Maybe he just got lost?" Annie suggested hopefully, weakly.

The woman shook her head, "I too hoped that. But it seems not, dear. It seems not."

With a sad smile and tear-streaked cheeks, the old woman retreated back into her house and shut the door.

Annie ran back to the cubicle. Somewhere between leaving the house and reaching her time machine, Annie found herself crying. She waited until the tears had subsided before slamming the home button with all her might.

When she arrived back at the lab, Peeta was quick to comfort her, though he had no idea why she was so upset, and she refused to explain.

* * *

Annie became an avid consumer of Odair's poetry. Anything to get a little glimpse of him. Peeta had sent her ten years ahead of the date she'd suggested, and she was well aware of the risks she would face if she defied the established structure and went back to a point during those ten years.

She was never to see Finn again, and it hurt immensely. Sometimes, she still cried about it, but only when she was alone.

With her leaving Odair poetry all over the lab, it was only a matter of time before Professor Crane asked to have a talk with her. When he did, though, his opening line caught her quite by surprise; she'd been expecting him to point out how having multiple books in a lab was a health and safety hazard.

"I found this Odair poem, thought you might be interested," he said, passing a printed-out copy to her across his desk.

Upon seeing the title ("Why, Annie, Why?"), she felt her heart drop through the floor. She knew exactly where this was going.

"Didn't talk to anybody, huh?" Professor Crane raised an eyebrow.

"He spoke first; it would be rude to ignore him!" She snapped defensively.

Professor Crane, thankfully, changed the subject. "Read it. I did some research and apparently it's not in many poetry books, so I doubt you've come across it."

She'd been getting better, had been moving on from it all, but by the time she reached the end of the poem she was in floods of tears. Wordlessly, as though expecting this outcome, Professor Crane passed her a box of tissues. She accepted with a tearful "thank you".

Still, those last lines would haunt her for the rest of her life, she was sure of it.

* * *

_Why, Annie, why,_

_Must you leave me like so,_

_Without a goodbye,_

_Or a trace,_

_Or a note,_

_Why, Annie, why,_

_You must realise my pain,_

_The sky's never blue,_

_Never snows,_

_Never rains,_

_Why, Annie, why,_

_Oh it's driving me mad!_

_There's pain in my chest,_

_Where my heart,_

_Has been stabbed_

_Why, Annie, why,_

_Nothing's truer than true,_

_I can't carry on,_

_I can't live,_

_Without you._

* * *

**I apologise for the awful poem. Poetry is not my strong point.**

**Also, the poem titles are super cheesy because Finnick would totally give his poems cheesy names like "The Inventor Of My Pain", let's face it.**


	13. Waiting Tables

**This story was inspired by _Mr Selfridge_. More specifically, Victor Colleano's situation in series 1. As anyone following me on tumblr will probably know, I noticed a lot of similarities between Victor's situation and Finnick's, and this has been playing on my mind for a while. Hope you all enjoy :)**

* * *

He was so lucky to have this job. When the restaurant first opened, the line of people hoping to be granted places there was so long it stretched out the door and halfway down the road.

Finnick worked hard; he couldn't afford to lose it. Times had been hard since that his parents had died, leaving just him and his grandmother. Granny Mags did her part, buying cheap beads in the marketplace and turning them into beautifully intricate pieces of jewellery to sell. However, they both knew that it was Finnick's income that bought most of their food, paid most of the rent. They'd be out on the street should he be sacked.

After maybe a week of working hard at the new restaurant, Finnick was pulled aside by the manager. Fearing the worst, he shoved his sweaty hands into his trouser pockets and hoped he didn't look too nervous.

"You do know why we employed you, don't you?" Mr Snow asked.

Finnick shrugged. "Because I'm a hard-worker, I guess."

"No," Mr Snow's lips, which were overly plush and looked fairly slimy, spread in a smile. "You're very good-looking, Mr Odair," he said, taking Finnick's chin and tilting his head from side to side slowly, inspecting his face from every angle. "Flirt with the customers. All of them- even if you don't find them attractive. We cater to the city's most wealthy citizens, and they'll tip extra if they like the service provided."

It felt wrong, plastering on a cheeky smile, complimenting women he'd never met on the cut of their gown or the blush on their cheeks. Finnick forced himself to go through with it anyway, though, because he couldn't afford to upset Mr Snow. He couldn't afford to lose this job. He couldn't force Granny Mags to live out on the street; she was so old and so fragile, one winter out there would surely be enough to kill her. She was all he had left; he couldn't- _wouldn't_\- lose her.

He never told Granny Mags, of course. She'd tell him not to do anything that made him feel uncomfortable, force him to hand in his resignation. She'd say not to worry about her. Finnick had known his grandmother his whole life; he knew what she was like.

A few weeks after Mr Snow had pulled him aside, one of the customers at the restaurant asked Finnick if he was free that Friday night.

"I'm having a... a _party_," she explained. "A very small party, mind. I was wondering if you might want to... wait the tables for me... I'd make sure to reward you richly."

Finnick was about to politely decline (Granny Mags would pull together whatever savings they had to buy a fresh loaf of bread from the bakery every Friday, and if he hurried home after work it was usually still warm), but caught Mr Snow watching him from across the restaurant like a hawk.

"I'd be delighted to accept, Miss..." he trailed off pointedly.

"Miss Cornelia," the woman introduced herself.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful lady," Finnick found himself saying, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.

The next day, a large box of expensive chocolates arrived at the restaurant, wrapped up in brown paper and bearing a label which read 'For Finnick Odair- Miss Cornelia xxx'

"I don't know what I did to deserve these," Finnick admitted aloud to Gloss, a colleague of his.

Gloss laughed, but immediately fell quiet when he realised that Finnick was being serious. "Have you been to her house?"

"I'm going Friday night. She said she wanted me to serve at a small party there, I don't see-"

"Poor, poor, naive Finn," Gloss patted him on the head as though he was an endearing small child or some kind of well-behaved puppy. "You do realise that you and her are going to be the only people at this 'party', don't you?"

He took the chocolates home for Granny Mags. She asked where he got them from, and thankfully didn't pry further when he said they were 'just a gift from a pleased customer'. That Friday night, he went to the address Miss Cornelia had given him. She paid him handsomely for his services, which sweetened the deal a little. Still, he couldn't help but feel incredibly dirty as he snuck back into the house he had grown up in in the small hours of the morning.

* * *

This was getting ridiculous.

Three weeks ago, Annie hadn't been able to make it to their weekly meeting; her father had fallen ill, so she'd had to run the family florist's until he was better. A fortnight ago, Johanna had been condemned to bed with what Annie still suspected was a hang-over, but she'd not dared broach the subject with the woman in question for fear of being found dead in a ditch somewhere the next morning. And last week, Delly had landed herself a date during her lunch break and so conveniently 'forgot' to show up to their lady's meeting.

"How are we supposed to discuss the cause if we never meet up?" Madge asked. For the first time in a month, their whole gang was together; Annie didn't need to be paying attention to know that Madge Undersee intended to take advantage of that fact. "We need to decide upon a day, time and place that is do-able for all of us, and stick to it."

"I can't help it if I was ill," Johanna grumbled.

Katniss shot her a suspicious look, one that made Annie feel immensely relieved that she was apparently not the only one who suspected that their friend's recent 'illness' was in fact alcohol-induced.

They decided between them that Tuesday lunch times would be good. Now all that needed sorting was the place at which they would meet.

"There's that new restaurant down the road from your house, Kat," Katniss winced at Delly's nickname for her. "The Capitol, or something?"

"I've heard of it," Madge nodded. "It looks rather fancy."

"If we all pull together," Annie said, "we could afford a weekly table."

Madge pursed her lips. "It'd also give everyone more incentive to attend our meetings if they'd paid money towards it in advance."

It was decided. Katniss popped into The Capitol on her way home and inquired as to whether or not a weekly reservation would be possible. Mr Snow was more than happy to oblige, making sure to inform her as to just how expensive such a reoccurring reservation would be. She returned the next day with the others, each of them carrying their own share of the fee in cash. Mr Snow was delighted, counting the coins out on the counter, and said he couldn't wait to see them all next Tuesday.

"What a charming old man," Delly marvelled aloud as they left the restaurant.

* * *

Mr Snow had warned them that morning about the 'large group of ladies' who would be visiting the restaurant for lunch that day, about how they were to be extra polite to them as they had booked a year-long weekly reservation and he did not want them to come to him before that year was up, dissatisfied with their service and demanding their money back.

Lunch times were always busy at The Capitol, and Finnick was the only waiter not already occupied when the women finally entered. Grabbing his notepad and a pencil, he waited for them to settle down at their reserved table by the window before making his way over.

"Hello, my name is Finnick Odair and I will be your waiter today," he rattled off the usual introduction.

"What kind of a name is _Finnick_?" One of the women, a brunette with large brown eyes and a forest green dress, scoffed. Her friend beside her- the one with the tanned skin and the side braid- nudged her sharply and shot her a pointed look.

"Thank you, Mr Odair," said one of two blondes at the table. This one's hair was more of a golden colour, whereas he noticed the other had a slight reddish tint to it. "If you'll excuse Miss Mason; she has a tendency to forget herself around friends."

Finnick looked at the woman with the brown eyes, Miss Mason, and flashed a smile. "That's quite alright, Miss Mason."

"I'm Miss Undersee," the blonde continued. "Then we have Miss Everdeen," with the side braid, "Miss Mason you know, Miss Cartwright," with the reddish-blonde hair, "and finally, Miss Cresta." Miss Cresta offered him a tight-lipped smile and returned to perusing her menu.

Once they'd ordered and their food had been served, Finnick watched them from across the restaurant in a manner he hoped was inconspicuous. Apparently it was not as he thought, as Gloss nudged him with an elbow as he walked past with an empty tray, returning from the kitchen a short while later to stand by his side.

"Quite a fine collection, aren't they?" the blond remarked.

"I was watching their dynamic," Finnick explained. "They're a rather interesting group. Despite Miss Mason clearly being the loudest and most boisterous of the group, Miss Undersee is clearly in charge. Miss Cartwright seems to be a social butterfly, you know? She seems to take part in several conversations with several people at once, and never get confused. Miss Everdeen listens, rarely speaks, but when she does they all seem to listen; whatever she says must be of value. And Miss Cresta..."

"Miss Cresta...?" Gloss prompted.

"I can't figure out what she's doing there with them, to be frank with you," Finnick admitted. "She seems to have spent have most of their lunch together staring off into the distance, eyes all glazed over."

"Weird," Gloss agreed. "You're right, though, they are interesting to watch." Pause. "And rather nice on the eye, too, might I add."

Finnick elbowed him.

* * *

Finnick's life continued on as normal. He waited tables during the day, flirting with customers as he went. He got called to the houses of strangers regularly, and he always went for fear of his job. And besides, when was a little extra money ever bad? He felt awful for Granny Mags, who still treated him like her beloved grandson, her precious, innocent dear, because he wasn't anymore. He wasn't precious or innocent or dear. He didn't deserve her love, her affection, her care. He was horrid and dirty, tainted by so many clawing fingernails and so many painted lips that he'd long lost count.

But he couldn't tell her any of that, so he smiled and joked as he always had done, and hoped she wouldn't notice a difference in him.

Miss Undersee and her friends continued to visit the restaurant every Tuesday. Though all he did for them was wait their table, Finnick found himself looking forward to their weekly visits. They were a breath of fresh air; when they flirted, they didn't expect him to follow them home and tear their clothes off their bodies and whisper sweet lies in their ears. They meant it for fun. They let him in on their inside jokes and talked to him like he was a person, not a piece of meat. He appreciated it, more than he could ever express.

Then, one Tuesday, Finnick messed up.

He leant over the table to place Miss Mason's tomato soup in front of her, but he must've moved slightly too far forward because before he realised what was happening he was sprawled across the middle of the table and the bowl of soup had fallen from his hands.

Finnick leapt to his feet and straightened the condiments he'd knocked over with his clumsiness before Mr Snow noticed, checking over his shoulder just to make sure he was safe.

Once that was sorted, he went to look for the soup bowl.

It hadn't gone far. In fact, it had landed in Miss Cresta's lap. She'd been wearing a pale pink dress that day, and it was now splattered with red in a fashion incredibly noticeable.

She was shaking. She was staring at her hands and _shaking_. God, he felt awful.

"Miss Cresta, I'm sorry," he attempted, but she wasn't willing to listen. Standing up, she marched out of the restaurant.

Miss Cartwright went to follow her, but Miss Undersee stopped her with a hand to the shoulder. The leader of the group shot Finnick a look, and he got the message instantly.

Grabbing a handful of napkins from behind the counter, he headed outside to look for Miss Cresta.

She was just around the corner, sitting on a wooden bench. Her elbows were resting upon her knees, her head was in her hands, and it was only as Finnick grew closer that he noticed how her shoulders were shaking with sobs.

He'd made her cry. He'd made a lady cry. His mother would be turning in her grave.

Feeling nervous (because he'd just spilt soup all over her dress, of course), Finnick sat down on the bench beside her.

"Look," he said gently. "I really am very sorry. I brought some napkins so you can clean yourself up a bit, if you like. I know it's not ideal but it's the best I can think of and- look, Miss Cresta, I really am sorry."

She sat up a little, looked at him with tearful eyes before taking a napkin from the bundle in his hands and dabbing away the watery streaks running down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry." Finnick found he couldn't say the words enough.

"It's alright," Miss Cresta assured him. "It isn't your fault."

"But I-"

"All that red it just... it just reminded me of someone, that's all."

He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so bold, so curious, but Finnick found the word "Who?" slipping from his mouth before he had chance to stop it.

"My brother," Miss Cresta was fiddling with napkin in her hands now, folding it into a tight little square and then unfolding it, repeating the action over and over. "He, um, he killed himself."

"I'm so sorry," Finnick was beginning to hate himself, hate those words, but they seemed to be the only thing he was able to say.

"Don't be," Miss Cresta looked up at him and smiled. He'd not seen her smile before, not really, but it was beautiful. Her green eyes crinkled slightly and her nose wrinkled, just a little, and it was so adorable and so beautiful. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know, I just-"

"It's just there was so much blood, you know?" she continued on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Finnick had even spoken at all. Maybe she was. "When I found him in his bedroom, there was so much blood. I had to touch it, to _kneel_ in it, while I checked to see if he was breathing, if he had a pulse. It got all over my dress, my hands- I'm sorry." There, now she was saying it. "You didn't need to know all that."

"It's okay," Finnick said, taking one of her hands in his in a manner he hoped was reassuring (as opposed to creepy). "You must've looked down, seen a giant red stain on your dress, and your mind must've immediately jumped to..." he trailed off.

She nodded, "Yes."

"Listen, Miss Cresta," Finnick began. "I need to get back to The Capitol before Mr Snow notices I'm gone."

"Can't you wait with me?" she asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes, "Just until I'm ready to go back? It shouldn't take any longer than five minutes, I'm sure."

Against his better judgement, he agreed. Something in those big green eyes just wouldn't let him refuse her.

* * *

Mr Snow fired him. He waited until the end of the day, when they were packing everything away for the night, and then approached Finnick.

"You were absent for thirty minutes during the lunch hour," he said, tone eerily calm. "You know we're at our busiest then."

"I'm sorry, Mr Snow," Finnick insisted, head bowed and cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "It won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't," Mr Snow agreed. "After all, you won't be working here as of now."

"W-what?" Finnick spluttered out.

"You heard me," Mr Snow nodded towards the door. "You're dismissed."

He didn't tell Granny Mags. He couldn't. So when she asked him how his day was, he said it was 'fine', and when she asked if anything exciting happened he said 'no'.

The next few days were spent searching for a new job. Just when Finnick was beginning to resign himself to a life on the street, he found a sign that read 'help wanted'.

He pushed the door open and was immediately bombarded by a host of bright colours and new smells.

The florist. He was in the florist.

"Can I help you?" a friendly-looking man asked from behind the counter.

"Hello, I'm Finnick Odair," he introduced himself, walking across the shop to shake the other man's hand. "I was wondering if you still needed help?"

"As a matter of fact, we do," the man confirmed. "Why? Are you offering your services?"

"I am, sir."

The man laughed. "I won't have 'sir' in here. It makes the very air feel stuffy, and we can't have that in a flower shop, can we. No, call me Jonah."

"Jonah," Finnick tested the name out, "alright then."

"When can you start?" Jonah asked.

Finnick shrugged, "as soon as possible."

Again, Jonah laughed. Finnick wondered where he'd seen that little nose crinkle before. "In that case, how about now? I need to pop out to post some letters."

"Of course, si- Jonah," he quickly corrected himself.

"Since you're new and all," Jonah continued, walking around from behind the counter and untying his apron, handing it to Finnick, "I'll get my daughter to come help you out. Don't get used to it, mind; I want you fully independent this time next week."

"Yes, s- Jonah."

"Annie!" Jonah called. "Come here!"

The man explained the situation to his daughter, while Finnick studied the floor, the ceiling, anything to keep himself from looking at her.

"Mr Odair," she said, once her father had left, and Finnick found his eyes snapping up to meet hers before he could stop them.

He could feel the blush rising in his cheeks already. "Miss Cresta," he greeted.

She smiled that delightful little smile of hers. "Come on; I'll teach you a little about floriography while there aren't any customers."

* * *

**Floriography- the secret language of flowers**


End file.
